


Bro's Got A Brother

by screamingriotboy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: FTM, Gen, Slice of Life, Trans life, Transgender Dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingriotboy/pseuds/screamingriotboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro's younger sister has always been different, for fuck's sake, Bro pulled her out of a crater when she was just an infant. But lately she's been different in a new way, and Bro doesn't think he should be saying "she" anymore. It's going to be difficult and awkward, but Bro is bound and determined to make his younger sibling happy, even if it means making a big change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell Me the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember this is a work of a fictional character and how this transition is portrayed is based off of how my own personal transition is going and the little things friends of mine throw in here and there. If this kinda thing squicks you out, turn back now, because all shitty comments will be dealt with accordingly. Thank you and enjoy!

Bro appears in the doorway to his younger sis- eh - sibling’s room in an instant, silently watching them lean against the wall and write in an old battered notebook with “raps” scratched across the front in thick black marker. He tilts his head and observes the teen, uninhibited from writing, in the chosen outfit for today; tight black jeans who’s poor knees have been destroyed, grey hoodie with both hood up and unzipped, and a black tee. Manly. And comfortable looking. Bro decides he should probably talk to the kid and figure this out, because as it stands, he’s not quite sure what to use anymore. He’s been sticking to non-gender or gender neutral names, “kiddo”, “kid”, (to be a pain) “hun”, but he’d rather use something that makes the seventeen year old happy and comfortable.

He leans against the door frame and looks around the room, from varied CD’s and notebooks scattered across the floor, to the bookshelf hosting jars of assorted dead things, an antique jewelry box, old sewing kit of Bro’s, and books, then to the strings hung with pictures over the unmade bed, and the computer table - no longer propped on cinder blocks thanks to a job at JC Penny’s - with its untouched constant mess. There’s things everywhere, all reflect on the teenager against the wall. Bro’s gaze climbs up the wall his sibling’s back is on to the katanas racked up there, but what brings a small smile to his face is the older looking katana hung lovingly beside the other rack by itself. Its old browning sheath has a couple nicks in the leather and looks as though it’s seen many a strife, which it has, and is quite different from the shiny dark black metal rungs its hung on. His eyes move past the slightly rusted holder to the worn handle and the threading stringy rope that Bro had wound on it a few months after giving it to the younger. Glinting metal catches his attention and his smile grows as he spots the little painted dragon charm that had been carefully hung on the rope. Bro’s smile warms before settling back into its normal stoic expression.

“Hey kiddo,” he shouts, watching the teen jump at the sudden loud noise. Said teen sets aside their notebook and looks at Bro, a little red in annoyance at being caught off guard.

“What do you want, Bro?”

“Make this easy on me, what the hell do I call you?” A raised eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Pronouns dipshit. You know, those things they taught you in school to describe people: he, she, his, her.”

The blank look on their face frustrates Bro, so he snaps, “Dammit kid what do you want me to call you?! Should I say ‘lil girl’ or ‘lil man’? Tell me so I can work on changing!”

They mutter something, but he’s not sure what. So he takes a breath and calmly asks, “What was that bae?”

“He, please…” Bro nods.

“Sounds good, lil bro.” He perks up from the nervous down he’d sunk into.

“But I suppose I can’t call you Eva anymore. Have you chosen a name?”

He flushes a little and toys with the dog eared corner of the notebook on the floor.

“I’ve been thinking for a while, but I don’t know.”

Bro scratches idly at the fuzz on his chin, thinking. “You know, when I first found you and I didn’t know if you were a girl or a boy I decided I’d name ya Dave if you were a boy.”

He looks intrigued. “Really?”

“Mhmm. Dave was your namesake’s husband. He was a good man.”

“Dave...Dave. I like it! Bro? Will you call me Dave from now on?”

Bro flashes the younger a rare smile and walks into his room, kneeling beside his little brother and gives him a hug.

“Sure thing, Dave.”

He feels Dave smile against his neck and hug him back.

“Love you, Bro.”

“Love ya too, Dave.”

Bro smiles and kisses the top of his brother’s head, petting the lengthening pale blonde hair. He’d need a haircut soon, and Bro would need to change positions soon, but it could wait, they were having a very rare moment. But Bro’s knees didn’t care and they hurt like a royal bitch, so he moves to sit next to Dave and drape an arm around him. The younger snuggles under his arm and closer to his chest which gives Bro flashbacks to when Dave was just a little thing. He smiles and idly rubs his thumb on his clinger’s shoulder. It takes but perhaps half an hour before cuddled up on his bro’s chest that Dave falls happily asleep. Bro meanwhile dozes and dreams of memories past.

 

Pulling a baby and a dead horse out of the crater that was once his favorite record shop. Once he learned it was a baby girl he’d named her Evangeline for a very good friend who had died a few years prier. And Lord did that girl act like Angie; feisty, clingy but always had to be on the move, different, and pretty cool especially for a baby. He would hold her when she was falling asleep and look out the window to the stars, thinking of how proud Angie would be of baby Eva.

And she would be proud now of little Davey. That baby girl who grew up and learned she was he, and he would continue to grow to a young (so fucking ironic) man.

Now, with Dave asleep at his side, Bro isn’t entirely surprised at his wanting to change. Not even that he grew up with a male presence alone, he’d always been different, starting from when he’d pulled the baby from the crater. Sitting on a poor dead horse? Not normal in any way. But it was more than that, she (at the time) was clingy, adored the bib he’d made out of the heart patch on the horse, had a killer ability to strife as a newborn, shown a strong interest in mixing beats at a young age, along with strifing with katanas, loved her Winnie the Pooh plush, wore “ironic” pink clothes, had a strange affinity for building small towers with huge skyscrapers from her blocks, donning her tiny Godzilla t-shirt, pressing the button on her chest, and destroying the town while she roared along with the shirt, and so many other quirky things. Bro smiled drowsily. He poured over those memories, remembering all the little details he could.

Apart from those currently marching their way through his head, a few more memories wormed their way to the forefront; Eva’s face when he presented her with a rainbow bead bracelet that she wore everyday until it snapped when she was nine. Then that day and how much she cried, totally inconsolable, until Bro bought a new one with her on his hip. He got it for free because the owner felt so bad for the sniffling nine year old clinging to him.

There was the night she plopped down on the futon before him and demanded he show her his “body pictures”, to which he of course pulled his shirt off and showed her the bright orange dragon winding its way across and up his back, the completely ironic tribal bird on the nape of his neck, and the thin red heart with her name scrawled in Bro’s handwriting in it (which, now that its on his mind, he’s going to need to change or cover). Her face was pure concentration while she ran chubby little fingers over each and every line on all of his tattoos, smile bright when she saw her own name. She wrapped her arms around Bro’s bicep where her name was inked and giggled, “Bo i’s beauiful!” Bro smiled and wrapped his other arm around her, standing and holding her with the one arm while she giggled harder, swinging her free legs. He thinks more on that day, remembering early morning cartoons, an insistence she let Bro paint his nails pink to rival the deep blue beauty (disaster) on hers, and a nap after dinner he woke to find had been longer for him by the blanket pulled snugly over his chest and loose on his legs. He’d found her in her room with Cal and “Wimmy Poo” practicing sword movements and defenses with the tiny beginner sword Bro had made for her. It’d brought a thoughtful smile to his face that he’d kept as he opened the door all the way, and had a chuckle added when she’d jumped and fell squawking off of her bed on his arrival. She had just laid on the floor and cackled (weird, weird little kid), even as Bro picked her up and sat on the edge of the bed to rock her gently and sing. She smiled and fell asleep there in his arms, curled against his chest with a tiny point to her shades pressed into his neck; but it didn’t matter because she looked so peaceful. And that’s how she continued to look when Bro checked on her after she’d gone to bed - sometimes removing her shades or pulling a blanket up - for years after. She looked peaceful and calm and Bro prayed she would be able to stay that way. And though there had been many changes, and more were bound to come, she had. That’s all Bro could ask for…

 

He was being shaken lightly, and though he wanted nothing more than to tell whoever it was to fuck off and let him sleep, Bro begrudgingly groaned and opened his eyes. It was dark in the room and the windows, so he had to have slept for a while, which his stomach confirmed with a growl. Vision coming into focus, there was Dave’s Ray Bands in his face, a single dark blonde eyebrow visibly raised above them. Damn kid.

“Waddaya wan?” Holy fuck that accent is thicker than Dallas traffic. He’s gonna have to fix that. He coughs. “What, Dave?”

The corner of Dave’s lip raises for a second before he’s back to a “stoic expression”, but Bro sees it all when it comes to him, not that he doesn’t try. It’s amusing as hell.

“Food Bro, remember that? Yeah, we need some.” He’s lowered his voice greatly. Bro wonders how long he’s been working on it. It’s good, some of his twang slips through and it sounds a bit strained, but its a damn good start. Bro has got to admit, he’s proud of his lil man.

Damn, that sounds a bit odd in his head but fuck if it doesn’t seem to fit better.. but the kid is yackin something at him so he should probably listen.

“...starve? Plus, I wanted to- hello? Dammit Bro are you listening?!” His voice cracked towards the end and got a bit pitchy, Bro notes and wonders if he should say something.

Ehhhh, later. He probably noticed anyway.

“I’m listening, I’m listening, shit kid.” Fuck yeah, points for concealing an accent to him.

“What did you want?”

He raises a dubious eyebrow at Bro, who adds more points for being able to fake his sis-brother (too close, shit) out, and settles on his ass in front of the older.

“I wanted to talk to you..” The uncomfortable look that flashes across his face give the subject away, but Bro waits for him to keep talking. Though the trail off at the end doesn’t seem like it’ll come up soon; but Bro is a patient man, and this is important.

“Well that’s specific, but alright.” Dave looks nervous, so Bro switches gears. “And you’re bitchin about how you’re starving right? Well get out of my way and I’ll save your useless ass.”

He still looks nervous, and its in his movements now, but rolls over and hops up all the same with Bro following suit. Bro runs a hand through the jacked up spikes on his neck and picks up his discarded hat before following Dave out the door. The kid isn’t in the living room in his usual perch so Bro turns and looks in the kitchen, and low and behold, there he is pulling pots and pans out from between the shitty old swords and broken pieces stashed in the cabinets.

“Ey, get the hell outta my kitchen. I got cookin’ to do.” Dave snorts.

“Accent Bro. And you can’t cook to save your life. Only thing you can do is blend the shit out of smuppets and that Jigsaw toy you got. Poor dude never stood a chance, you monster.” It’s Bro’s turn to snort and roll his eyes.

“One, mah accen’ is fer the ir’ny ov it,” he starts, hamming up the accent just to see Dave grimace, “gotta ac’ like ‘m a real Texan bo.” Bro smirks at Dave, who’s grinding his teeth in an effort to keep from screaming. “Second,” he drops the fake accent, “I can too cook, like a god damn world class chef. You just can’t appreciate it ya peasant.” The look on Dave’s face is priceless, like he’s trying not to snort so hard he dies. Bro 2, Dave 0. “Anyway, you don’t give two fucks about the smuppets, don’t you kid me lil man.” Dave smiles a little, fuck yes, score 1 on making his little bro comfortable with his change. “You were the one to blend up one of my first Jigsaws, or did you conveniently forget that?”

He grins, prompting Bro to grunt and toss a lonely yellow ball on the counter at Dave’s head.

“That’s what I thought, ya little shit.” Dave just laughs.

 

Bro has a flashback of setting a four year old Eva on the counter while he made lunch, too close to the ironically Jigsaw filled blender apparently. He turned around for a second to pull bread out and the next thing he knows the blender is going and Eva is giggling. Bro whipped around in time to see stuffing flying out the open top; and he wanted to laugh because damn was that funny, but something stirred in him that was angry for fear she could have been hurt. He moved over to the fluff spewing blender and dying Eva and shut it off, turning sternly then to the baby. Bro crossed his arms and the smile sank off her face.

“Evangeline Renee Strider,” he began in a quiet even voice, “why did you do that?”

Her head dropped and she responded timidly, “Dun ’no.”

He kneeled down to her level and tilted her head up.

“Evangeline. You could have gotten hurt, playing with the blender is dangerous and if you do it again you’re gonna get a whoopin’. You understand me?”

She started to cry and Bro was dying to hold her, but he had to be firm. “Eva.”

She nodded angrily and jumped off the counter without looking at Bro and ran to her room. He heard her little footsteps on the wood floors. He sighed.

 

He’s back and Dave is moving around the kitchen starting on food.

“Hey, didn’t I say I was gonna make the damn food?”

“Yeah, but you’re standing against the wall, and I don’t know what anyone else has told you, but that does not food make.” Dave puts a hand on his hip and gives Bro a skeptical look.

Bro just pushes fluidly off the doorway and takes the newest acquired pan from Dave’s hand, pushing him out the door.

“Git, and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Dave rolls his eyes behind his shades but leaves regardless.

“Don’t burn yourself or the apartment down.”

Bro shoots a glare at the teen on the couch and ignores him, grumbling while he cooks.

Thirty minutes and an innumerable amount of (“Fuckin’ annoyin’”) quips from Dave, Bro stands in the kitchen door and whistles for the lil man to come eat. The teen jumps up and walks into the kitchen commenting on how he’s proud Bro didn’t scorch the place. Bro smacks him upside the head for it. Dave’s response is a snicker as he sits down across from Bro and pulls his plate towards him. Eggs, bacon, apple juice, and coffee are laid out on the sparse table.

“Looks good Bro,” he chirps before digging in.

Bro nods and chews at some of his plate, visibly waiting. He knows Dave is putting it off by eating, but he’ll eventually talk.

Dave finishes everything first put on his plate and starts to nibble on a few new pieces of bacon uneasily. Bro just watches over the ironically pink lip of the coffee cup Eva (God this is confusing for him) gave him and coughs. Dave jumps a little a nervously eyes his guardian. Bro sets aside the cup and gives his skittish brother all his attention.

“Didn’t you have something to talk to me about?”

“Y-yeah...I did…” Bro waits while Dave fusses with his fingers.

“David.” He chews his lip for a moment before he seems to make up his mind, and in a fit of bravery brought on by nerves he slams his hands on the table and exclaims, “I want to get the equipment for my transition!”

Bro raises an eyebrow at his choice to say it and calmly observes his trembling young brother before he stands and wraps his arms around Dave.

“Shh man, don’t freak out. We’ll get you the stuff, don’t worry. We’ll get your stuff for you, lil man.”

Dave hugs Bro back tightly and Bro realizes this is the first real hug they’d had since Dave was a lot younger. So he sees fit to tighten his hug hold on the smaller.

“Thank you Bro,” Dave sniffs happily.

“No problem, Davey,” Bro croons, ruffling Dave’s hair. The kid pulls away with a watery smile and bats at his brother’s hand.

“Stop that, I’m not a little kid anymore!”

Bro snorts incredulously and boxes his ears gently.

“Oh shut up, Dave. You’re still a kid in my eyes.”

Dave shakes his head and goes to retort, only to be thrown into a headlock and a short fight around the kitchen that ended with himself on the floor and Bro sitting high and mighty on his back.

“God your fat ass is going to kill me! Get off!!”

“What’s the magic word?” Bro singsongs. Dave struggles and thrashes, trying to get out from under Bro’s greater weight.

“Fuuuuuuuck yoooou!!!”

“Gotta buy a lady dinner first. Damn, didn’t I teach you anything?”

“Asshole.”

“I’m waiting Dave.”

He’s quiet for a minute before he snarls, tries one last time to thrash out, and finally barks, “God dammit, fine! Uncle you asshole.”

Bro smirks and, after pressing his dead weight into Dave, gets off his back, making sure to help the teen up. Dave grumbles and punches Bro’s shoulder without force when he’s up. Bro grabs his fist and easily tosses him into a chair. He settles a second before his posture changes and he looks at Bro questioningly.

“So, Bro, I got a question.”

“Hmm?” Bro hums curiously, starting to clean dishes from their breakfast dinner.

“I appreciate it and all, and trust me, I don’t want you to stop! But...but how are you so chill with this?” Dave muses.

Bro sets a clean plate in the drainer next to a rusty older blade and replies thoughtfully, “I’ve known for a while. You were never exactly a “southern belle”.” Dave snarks and Bro continues, “I knew you were either going to want to switch, be your personal version of a “lady”,” and yes, he does sudsy air quotes on that, “or a tomboy. And I decided early on I would love and support you with whoever you wanted to be.”

Dave is smiling like he got the last of Grandma’s cookies when Bro peeks at him over his shoulder. He grins.

“Plus,” Dave looks up at Bro’s back, perplexed, “I heard you on the phone with Egbert about wanting to change and how you’d do it a while back.”

Bro doesn’t have to look back to know Dave’s face just went white and red and his eyes are now dinner plate size.

“I decided to wait until you were ready to tell me. And I’m not mad, nor was I, so you can stop that thought now. Besides, I’m glad I learned early. I had time to look things up and get some shit together.”

Dave’s mouth opens and shuts a few times before he croaks out a squeaky, “Wha?”

“Get behind the rainy day jar, there’s somethin’ back there.”

Dave numbly stands and moves the aforementioned jar aside on the fridge top, reaching and turning around a half full jar hidden behind it.

“W-wha…?” Dave repeats as he turns it around in shaking hands and gasps.

He sinks to his haunches on the counter top  holding a heavy jar labeled “lil man’s Trans* shit fund”, trying not to cry.

“B-Bro, did...did you really?”

Bro winks.

“How...much?”

“’Bout $250 last I checked.”

“H-holy..shit. Holy shit Bro!”

Dave sets the jar aside and jumps down, feet barely touching the linoleum as he flash-steps into a bone crushing hug on his brother. Bro turns with some difficulty in Dave’s grip and hugs him again, rubbing his back comfortingly while ignoring the wet spot growing on his chest. He’s a bit thrown though when he rubs Dave’s back again.

“Dave? How are you binding right now?”

The boy pulls away and scrubs his face with the heel of his hand before he lays a hand on his flattened chest.   
“Ace wrap, Harley looked it up.”

“Oh hell no. Fuck that shit. We’re going to go order you a proper binder right now.”

“Wait, you have a site?!”

“I told you I was ready.”

With that, Bro grabs Dave’s arm and drags him to where Bro’s laptop lay and started the physical process needed to fully transition Evangeline to Dave.


	2. Getting It Together

Bro sets his computer aside and calls for Dave before he gets up and digs through his sewing kit for a cloth measuring tape. Aforementioned teen comes out from his room and walks to where he’s being summoned from the couch, confused the entire time.

“We already took my measurements for the binder, didn’t we?”

Bro snorts with annoyance and sighs, “We did, but something went wrong so they sent me an email and said to re-submit the order. Hopefully this one works.” He mutters something else grumpily but Dave doesn’t catch it.

“What Bro?”

“Nothin lil man. C’mere- don’t give me that look dude, I used to bathe you.” Dave pulls a face.

“Didn’t you write down the damn numbers or somethin?”

Bro rolls his eyes and tips his head down to look at the younger over his pointy shades. “If I remember correctly, a certain Strider,” Dave scowls at him and crosses his arms, “told me to ‘just leave it Bro, hopefully by next time I can do it on my own.’ Or has your selective memory deleted that particular moment?” The younger Strider flushes at his slip-up and uncrosses his arms.

“Alright, alright, just do it fast...this is weird…”

“Dave, how many times have I seen you without your shirt?”

“I always had a sports bra on though, and when you were just patching me up...it was medical? Dunno, this is just...I don’t like it.” He shifts uncomfortably.

Bro holds his hands up and calmly replies, “If you want, you can take them alone in your room and I’ll help you outside.”

Dave nods and seems to calm, posture straightening and hands coming back into sight from where Bro assumes he was toying with his fingers like he always does when he’s nervous.

“Right, let me have the tape measure and I got this.”  
Bro nods and hands Dave the cloth tape, grabbing his phone from the table while following Dave to his room. He leans against the wall and pulls up the notepad app on his phone, typing out ribs and chest. Dave pushes the door closed with his foot, grabbing the back collar of his shirt and fighting to get it over his head once he hears the click. Once off, he wraps the tape snugly around the ‘bra band area’ as Bro put it the first time and checks the number.

“32 for rib cage!” Dave calls to Bro, who types it out and waits for the next.

Dave lets the cloth fall and rearranges it on what seems to be the widest part of his chest, tightening it til it’s snug against him when he’s sure it’s right. Again he checks the number and calls to Bro, “36 for bust.”

Bro jots the new number down and does some quick math for the average and gets a 34, which he adds to the note.

“You did that in inches right?”

“Well duh.” Bro can feel the “are you serious” look which brings the automatic eye roll.

“Was just asking ya lil shit.” Dave rolls his eyes and yanks a tight new sports bra on, enjoying how it does a great job of pulling his chest in. He admits it’s easier to breathe in and doesn’t leave painful marks like the ace wrap did, so it was best Bro confiscated it and bought him some new sports bras instead. He pulls on his fading broken record shirt and opens his door.

“So what size am I again?”

“Looks like, small. You still want the black tri top, right?”

“Please.”

“Alrighty. I’ll put this in.” He turns away, muttering darkly again, but Dave shrugs it off and goes to get some apple juice knowing Bro is just frustrated anyway.. So Dave retreats to his room and lets his brother mutter at the laptop.

 

Two hours, a brand new order for Dave’s binder, another email from Underworks informing him his original order had been located and he would receive both orders for the one payment and they’re sorry for the inconvenience, Bro sets the laptop on the floor finally with a relieved sigh. He stands, groaning as his back cracks painfully, and goes to check on Dave. He’s been quiet (okay, so he hasn’t entirely been paying attention, but still), and Bro knows him well enough to know that could be bad. So he heads to Dave’s room and peeks into the crack between door and frame. There was Dave, looking into a floor length mirror with annoyance on his reflection’s face while he pulled on his curved waist until it was straight up and down; face pulling into a grimace as he pokes at the slightly showing muscle on the soft, sort of scarred skin of his belly. Bro frowns at the frustrated sadness on his lil bro’s face. He pulls away and raps on the door. Dave swears quietly and Bro hears shuffling he assumes is the younger trying to get his shirt on. It quiets and there’s a second before finally, “Come in.”

Bro pushes the door open and views Dave seemingly sitting at his leisure a his desk, but Bro knows what he saw.

“Sup?”

“Not much, workin’ on some new sick beats.” He gestures to the open music program on his computer, which is a nice touch Bro notes.

“Nice.”

“Yep.”

“So can I hear?”

“Hear what?” Bro crosses his arms and quirks a brow over his shades.

“Your new beat? You said you were working on something.” Dave falls for his bait, minute gaps in his facade apparent to the guardian.

“Well...it’s not done yet. And you know I only like to display my mad music making prowess when my creations are done. Like Doc Frankenstein, man. He didn’t show off his badass monster half finished, fuck that, he was done when he made his debut.”

He’s trying to cover his tail, but he’s rambling. Bro quickly wonders if Dave knows it’s his tell, and a damn obvious one at that, before he looks at his brother over his shades and he shuts right up.

“Mmhmmm. So you know I know you’re lying right?” Dave’s face screams it, though he probably thinks he still has his poker face: busted.

“Uh.”

“Exactly. Why were you judging yourself in the mirror like that?” Bro asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Why were you snooping?” Dave shoots back. Bro gives him ‘the look’, (i.e. Bro’s only look with any symbolism to an actual parent as Dave puts it) and the teen’s glare falls to the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just squirms and fidgets under Bro’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I...wasn’t judging or anything like that. Just..looking…”

He still can’t look Bro in the eye.

“Uh huh. So that’s why you looked so agitated, right?”

Dave is quiet for a while before he swivels in his chair and looks at the mirror.

“Just annoying, ya know? Wide hips...too much curve...and the fuckin tits.” He snarls. “It ain’t right.”

Bro observes the young man in the computer chair thoughtfully for a moment.

“Dave.” Said teen looks away from the offending image and to his guardian. “I want to show you something. Stand up.” Dave raises a questioning eyebrow but complies.

“C’mere.” Bro pushes off the door and puts his hands on his own hips, sliding them away and holds them up, then motions for Dave to copy the length with his own hands. Bro then puts his hands on Dave’s hips, holding his hands up to compare the lengths; finding them almost equal. Shock sets on Dave’s face.

“Strider genes, Davey boy.”

“I was technically found not born so there’s no ‘Strider genes’ Bro,” Dave reminds gently.

“Shut up. You’re a Strider ain’t ya?” Dave nods. “Then you got Strider genes.”

Dave still looks skeptical but says nothing else on it, opting to change gears instead.

“So how the hell have you dealt with those?” He indicates Bro’s hips.

“I just accepted that I had wide hips and used them to be even more sexy.” Bro pops his hip out and strikes a pose that has Dave laughing. Bro grins and continues, “But seriously, I just accepted it and moved on with my life. Trying hard to hide something just makes it all that much more noticeable.

“Those other things that are agitating you? Those will change with time and T, so don’t sweat them too much for right now.”

Dave looks a little happier when Bro finishes his speech, seeming less rueful to his reflection. Bro catches himself smiling and settles it back to his normal face. He jerks his thumb at the door and asks, “Wanna go grab some burgers?”

Dave licks his lips and nods, grabbing his phone and starting for the door, but Bro holds up his hand.

“Wait up little man. I’ll make you a little wager.” Dave looks at his brother with interest. “First to the car doesn’t have to pay for dinner.” Dave’s smirk almost matches the sly one one his brother’s lips.

“You’re on.”

They bump fists and it begins. Dave scrambles for the window, narrowly avoiding Bro’s hand as it flies out in his direction. Bro abandons his original plan and tears through the apartment and out the door, gunning for the stairs. Dave slides through the window and hits the fire escape stairs, mentally counting floors as he listens to his footfalls ring on the old metal. He hops the last stair and kicks out the falling staircase to the concrete. Bro flies out the door just as Dave rounds the corner and accelerates to the car when he catches sight of the older. They’re two blurs as they race to the car, but Dave is just a little faster, touching the hood of the old 2002 Chevy truck seconds before Bro. He smirks at Bro, who just turns his eyes to the sky and growls for Dave to “cram his pie hole and get in the damn car.” He’s loathe to admit it, but he might need to start accepting he is indeed getting older; and not the good getting older. The kid legitimately won that race and Bro is having an issue catching his breath, not that he’s going to let Dave know any of that. Strifes are going to be a little rougher on Bro, but he’s still going to wipe the roof with his kid brother like he has for the last seventeen years. So he takes a deep intake of breath, holds it, and lets it out quickly before he climbs in the driver’s seat and takes off for the nearest diner, teen in the passenger seat bouncing around to some crappy pop song’s overly peppy beat blasting from Bro’s poor speakers. Poor truck.

 

Dinner was a few hours of laughing, teasing about life, making fun of odd looking patrons, and discussing the next steps of Dave’s transition.

Dave sipped on his Heath Bar milkshake after settling from a laughing fit brought on by Bro mocking the teens behind them, acting like they knew everything in the world. Bro adopted a thoughtful look suddenly and gave a low whistle to get the teen across from him’s attention. Said teen responded by whistling softly back.

“What are you gonna do about work? Or have you already done something? ‘Cause I know they put a big difference on what chicks and dudes wear over there.”

“Shit,” Dave swears a little too loudly, earning some unhappy looks. He ignores them and goes on, “I didn’t think about work, I was so worried about telling you. I mean, most of my coworkers know and call me Dave as do a couple of the managers. But, I’ve been a bit hesitant to talk to the one’s who run the name tags…”

Bro nods sagely. “Talk to them. More than likely they’ve heard about it, and they won’t mind. If they do have a problem? Call me.” He grins darkly, light catching his shades wickedly. Dave wisely nods and hopes for his managers’ sakes they act respectfully.

 

                    -----------------------

 

    Two days later Dave comes home from work after an eleven hour shift and flops in a kitchen chair. He kicks off his faded red converse and the knee high white socks with a groan. Bro looks at him from his place at the stove, noting he needs to fix up the loved shoes again and a bucket of warm water and Epsom salt would do him some good. Dave stands and grumbles while he tosses the socks into the laundry basket, beginning to strip out of the powder blue waitress uniform. It’s a simple short sleeved dress that stops just above his knees, long enough to cover his boxers, and extra coverage from the small black apron that hangs off his hips. Way too feminine for Dave but what he has to put up with for the time being.

“How was it?” Bro asks, turning back to the beginnings of mac n cheese simmering on the stove. Dave knows its not about work.

“Well. I talked to Mac, our head manager, and he was fine with it.” He yanks the dress over his head and throws it into the basket with the socks, scratching happily under his double sports bra ‘binder’. “He just needs to see a statement from a gender therapist to really do anything…” Bro’s look has Dave scrambling to continue. “But- but he said because I’ve worked there so long he’s going to let me wear the male uniform and he’s going to give me a name tag with “Dave” on it. He can’t change my paperwork without a gender therapist’s letter.” Bro seems to cool down, so Dave adds more to his thankfully very understanding head manager’s good fortune. “He even said he would call JC Penny’s and talk to the manager on my behalf.” Dave is thankful to see Bro grin while he stirs macaroni into the boiling water.

“Good. I knew he’d make the right decision.” Dave rolls his eyes but remains silent. “So when are you going to get your uniform top?”

Dave shrugs and empties his pockets of his small knife, phone, wallet, and keys on the table. Bro tilts his head to the closet where his clothes are, whistling to get Dave’s attention and sending him to it.

“I have a pair of black slacks in there that are too small for me, see if your tiny ass fits in them.”

“Hey, don’t hate ‘cause your ass is old, fat, and saggy.”

“My plush rump is perfect you hobo, shut up.”

“Hobo, Bro? Really?”

“Shut up and get the pants ya little pain in my ass.”

Dave stands much to the rancor of his feet, and goes to the closet. “Jesus Bro, are half of these even fucking clean?” After a short pause Bro calls back that he doesn’t know. Muttering about stupid brothers and how much god damn laundry he’s going to have to do, Dave rummages through the assorted clothes, shoes, and other items he knows (prays) aren’t Bro’s.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t be jealous lil man.”

Dave rolls his eyes and pushes aside a pile of white socks and a deep red teddy to finally reveal the black slacks. When Dave pulls them out he notices that they’re really clean for having sat on Bro’s closet floor for some unknown amount of time, and they looked like they’d never been worn.

“Bro…”

“Just try them on, Dave.”

Dave tries to scrutinize his older brother’s back, but gives up when he doesn’t even act like he’s noticed and complies, finding that they fit perfectly around his waist and fall to just the right length on his legs. He’s instantly suspicious.

“They fit.”

“Awesome. Go put them in your room,” Bro responds.

“Bro.” Dave crosses his arms and stares at his brother’s back but the other seems to not notice.

“Dave.”

“Bro, seriously.”

“Dave. Seriously, go put them in your room and get off my back,” he turns his head a bit towards Dave and shoots him a look out from the corner of his Gurren Laggen style shades.

Frustrated and (not in his own mind) defeated, Dave throws up his hands and stalks into room where he kicks the door shut, muttering darkly while he changes. Bro waits until he hears the latch on Dave’s door catch before he picks up the receipt and tags for the black slacks and tosses them into the trash basket next to the counter. Dave can be suspicious all he wants, it’s trash day so he’ll have no proof. Another win for Bro.

Dave finally comes out of his room when Bro yells that grubs on, which makes a dark cold shiver crawl up his spine that he can’t explain. Kind of like the sick feeling he gets when he sees Gushers at the store. His friends had admit to similar feelings with the snack and other products from Betty Crocker. Dave never said anything about it to them, but he distinctly remembers going to the store with Bro and sneering at a box of what he’d called ‘Batter Witch’ cake mix when he was about fifteen or so. He still has no idea why he reacted like that. Perhaps it was just a shot of teenage anger? Though it doesn’t explain why Bro snorted in amusement. Dave doesn’t even think Bro knows based on how confused he had looked. Eh, its just a weird occurrence. Now is the time for food, not dusting off old - _**OBEY**_.“Jade no!!” _**SUBMIT.**_ “TEREZI!” _**CONSUME**_ \- memories.

 

The next night Dave comes home with a JC Penny’s name tag that now says ‘DAVE’ on a sticker placed directly over the old ‘EVANGELINE’, and a missing blue dress Bro had seen the kid with when he’d left. He finds out one of Dave’s co-workers, Grandma Lou, asked Dave to bring her his uniform so she could fix it. The look and aura around Dave for the next two days is an impenetrable ball of happiness that even infects Bro. Things are looking good. And they look even better when the next day Dave literally struts into the apartment wearing his work dress tucked into Bro’s ‘old’ black slacks. Bro’s confused until Dave shows off Ms. Lou’s handiwork. She’d let out the arms to flare a bit more and taken off the dress’ skirt, hemming it to fit like a pullover male’s shirt. Dave is ecstatic and Bro too is quite happy for the younger.

 

                    -----------------------------

 

    Two weeks pass fairly well, Dave only has problems with a few ass- people who don’t/won’t call him Dave or use male pronouns, but he just flips them the cool bird and continues on. He’s pretty well mastered how his voice should sound, only breaking it when he gets overly excited or he’s dead tired; but it’s rare and he reins it back in quickly. Bro is (quietly) proud of his lil man, and makes a note to help him with a few of the smaller things on guys, but Dave is doing pretty damn well. Well enough Bro almost forgets about the pieces he ordered until the morning he gets a call from the apartment building’s front desk informing him some packages had arrived for him. Bro grins and yells for Dave to get his skinny ass out there so they can pick some stuff up. Dave walks out of his room snorting about Bro’s jealousy for Dave’s ass being young and plush and his being old and saggy, just missing a smuppet to the head as he rushes out the door. They bicker all the way down the stairs and out to the lobby about plush rumps and then onto Bro’s age, where Dave was lucky to avoid being socked in the head by Bro’s wide swing, and finally about Dave’s ‘virgin ass’ as told by his gait when they’d reached the front desk.

The thirty-something girl behind the counter smirks at the two siblings and hands Dave all the packages. He takes them with excitedly shaky fingers, two squishy white envelopes with ‘Underworks’ and the order information on the stickers. Dave tries to look at Bro to share his enthusiasm, but he’s become completely submerged in signing the papers, and Jessie, from her name tag, is looking anywhere but at him. The teen finds himself growing frustrated with the act. Bro finishes the paperwork and thanks Jessie before walking towards the stairs, calling for Dave to follow or get locked out. Dave looks the girl over, but she just smiles and waves him away. He scowls and stalks to the closing stairwell door.

 

Dave just catches the apartment door with a shoulder and slips in with an annoyed huff. He mutters angrily, slamming the envelopes down on the nearest table; managing to smash his toes on the table when he tries to turn on his heel, and is finally able to stomp into his bedroom swearing. He slams the door shut and kicks it harshly with his uninjured foot, throwing himself into his bed to scream into a pillow. Usually Bro’s antics didn’t bother him, they were annoying yes, but they’d never gotten this far under his skin. He wonders what could possibly be going on.

Unless…?

Oh for fucks sake.

Dave rolls his eyes at his stupid biology and gets up to pull out and rummage through his vampire bag.

 

Bro sits on the futon after Dave’s outburst, sipping a beer and eying his door. The kid doesn’t just blow a fuse for nothing. He considers getting off his ass and talking to his brother like a responsible god damn adult, but he’s interrupted from his adult duties (ehehehe- no, wait, focus Bro) by Dave’s door slowly opening. The guardian sets down his can of beer and watches the door crack open and Dave try to sneak out. He makes it a few steps before he catches sight of Bro and stops dead in his tracks. The teen looks grumpy and a touch agitated. He snorts.

“Can I help you?” Bro gives him a pointed look.

“Drop the attitude and tell me what’s shoved up your ass.”

Dave’s lips draw into a small thin line, telling Bro he’s weighing his words before he drops them. The older has a feeling of what’s going on before the younger says anything, but he lets Dave talk.

“Welcome to shark week, motherfucker…” The teen smiles a bit. Bingo.

Bro chuckles.

“Eloquent lil man.”

“Do you even know what that word means?”

“Course I do. I can do all tha’ fancy talk’in too ya know. I gots me some book learnin of ma own.”

Dave grimaces at Bro’s fake southern accent and groans.

“Oh god, make it fuckin stop,” Dave moans dramatically. All it earns him is a heavy chuckle.

Dave grins until he slides his hands into his pockets and his face falls into a scowl. Bro sits back and points to the bathroom.

“Go take care of yourself, bro.”

Dave’s face doesn’t come out of its scowl even after he returns and flops down next to Bro on the futon. It does falter however when Bro hands him a couple of Tylenol and a tall glass of apple juice. And once he takes a few sips? It’s plainly obvious it’s hard as hell to keep an angry look on his face with his favorite drink in him. Bro smirks and kicks his feet up on the table, watching from the corner of his eye in amusement as Dave does the same. They stay like that for a few hours while vegging their brains on mindless TV, until Bro remembers the packages they’d picked up earlier.

“Hey.” The teenager grunts. “Go get your shit.” A raised eyebrow over Aviators. “The mail you dumped, dingus.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gettin them. You know you could get off your fat ass and get them,” Dave nags. Bro only rolls his eyes and flips the other boy off.

“Hurry up, my grandma Nellie moves faster!”

“You don’t even have a grandma Nellie!!”

“Mail, Dave. Focus.”

Dave throws up his hands in frustration and grabs the packages, tossing them at Bro’s snickering head when he gets close enough. It’s not surprising when Bro avoids them and Dave himself when he jumps over the back of the futon at him.

“Nice try lil man, but you still ain’t got what it takes to best me,” Bro smirks while Dave rights himself to a sitting position on the futon.

“Oh shove it up your smuppet’s ass.”

“Now that’s just not sanitary,” he mock scolds, pulling away the flap on the first package from Underworks. “I have to sell those!”

If Dave rolls his eyes any harder they’re going to pop out of his head. At least he wouldn’t have to see Bro’s shit eating face, but he also wouldn’t get to see the black folded square of material covered in plastic as his brother pulls it from the packaging. His heart skips a beat and pounds with excitement, bright smile spreading across his face, he reaches for the plastic and tears into it the second it touches his hand. Dave is like a kid on Christmas and it’s such a big moment in his transition Bro can’t help but smile. The kid completely forgets the other binder and the unopened package and bolts for his room, Bro’s laughs following him.

Its an awkward process tearing off his shirt and sports bra because Dave is in such a hurry, but eventually they’re off and he’s figuring out how to pull it on and down his body properly. Attempt one is a failure because it was rolled up under his armpits too tight, attempt two was successful until he realized the binder was on backwards and had to pull it off and try again. After a few failures Dave finally gets his binder on and situated, finding it hard to keep from smiling and checking himself in the mirror. He pulls his shirt back on and stands sideways in the mirror, admiring the flatness of his chest. He looks more like a guy then ever! He smiles excitedly but pulls it back in and walks out into the living room with his head held high to show off to Bro.

Bro smiles at his brother when he comes strutting out of his room, chin up and flat chest puffed out. He looks a bit awkward the way he’s holding himself but Bro associates that with the binder straightening his slightly sloped posture. Eventually he’ll get used to how he has to hold his back and the awkwardness will go, leaving a well stood man behind. But that aside he looks damn good. He’s proud, so so proud of his younger brother.

“How’s it feel, Davey boy?” Dave grins.

“Feels damn good, Bro.”

“Sounds good. The second one should fit you the same, but do you still wanna try it on?”

“Nah, I’ll trust it.”

“Alright, then put it in that sty you call a room.” Bro tosses the other package labeled Underworks to Dave. “And make yourself presentable, we’re goin’ out for lunch.”  
The teen grins and goes back into his room to get dressed, stopping for a bit to admire his image in the mirror again. He looks good, more like the person he is inside. The binder pulls tight on his chest, with a small slightly annoying swell, and settles at the top of his ribs. Dave frowns; his chest is flat, yes, but there’s still a small swell of breast and it’s kind of putting a damper on his mood. He thinks and pulls uselessly on the tri top, finding no help. So he does what any smart person does: turns to Google. Praying thanks to the God’s for FTM online help boards, the teen learns many others have this problem at first and there are indeed ways to alleviate it. He awkwardly reaches into the arm holes of the tri top and pulls each breast up and to the side in the binder, mimicking how male’s chest grow in with fantastic results. He nods in satisfaction and poses like a dork in his mirror. Dave is utterly satisfied with his reflection out of a shirt and in one by the time Bro is knocking on the door growling about his stomach flapping against his backbone and if Dave is going to dick around all day or if they’re going to actually eat some damn food. He rolls his eyes and calls back for him to sit his ass down and relax, he’ll be done when he’s done. The teen is sure he heard Bro murmur “primadona”, but he just sticks his tongue out at the door and goes on beginning to get dressed.

 

Bro is laying on the couch with his legs over the back, whining and groaning louder when Dave yells for him to shut it. Dave groans in response, trying to sound more whiny and annoying than Bro. But it’s for not when with a final loud annoyed groan he gives in and rushes through getting ready, slamming the door to his room just as Bro’s moans start to grate on the last of his nerves.

“Oh my god do you ever shut up?! I’m done, lets go before I pull a katana and make you into hamburgers good tit sucking fuck!”

Bro whistles and cracks a smirk. “Daaaamn, that was quite a threat lil man. Maybe I won’t feed you if that’s how you’re gonna talk to me.”  
“Are you fucking kidding me??” Dave bristles. “You were the one being a fucking-”

“I’m screwing with you kid, calm down!” Bro is laughing like an ass and Dave has a burning urge to hit him upside the head with the nearest smuppet. But he beats it down and picks up the truck keys and walks out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Hurry and get your old ass up or I’m going without you.”

“Old?” Bro sits up and looks at the door indignantly. “Oh now you’re screwed kid. Dave! Get back here!” He roars and charges out the door, hot on the heels of his giggling idiot brother.

He eventually catches Dave, but it’s not before the younger locks him out of the truck and spends a good ten minutes laughing his skinny ass off while his brother snarls from the outside. Dave counts it as another win to him, even if he did get an ass kicking on the roof that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who wants to look around Underworks for their binder needs, here's the link > http://www.underworks.com/
> 
> As always, questions, comments, and reviews are appreciated.


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